She nestled to him, and gave him her hand again, and looked remorseful. When she pleaded mutely for forgiveness, with her pretty face upturned to his, and with her soft red lips within an inch of his, what would you have done, had you been in his place? He did what you would have done--and did it again--and again--and----
"No, sir," she cried, putting her hand upon her lips. "No, Philip, I mean. You shall not--you must not! Some one will be coming this way----"
There was nothing for it, as her lips were covered, but to kiss her neck; and he did so, until she lay in his arms panting.
"You frighten me," she sighed; "and if you are not still, I'll run away."
And she meant it. Dramatic lovers she had had by the score, in silk and fustian. She had been made love to a hundred times upon the stage, but those were sham engagements, and her gentle breast was not fluttered by them, nor was her sweet nature spoilt by them. This sort of thing was quite different.
"And I've a great mind to be angry with you," she said, not moving from his embrace.
"Why?"
"You have brought me no flowers."
He looked disconsolate. "If I had known you wanted them!"
"If you had known, sir! You must guess things. You must look into my face, if you think it will not frighten you, and you must say, Margaret wants this; Margaret wants that----' No, no, Philip I did not say I wanted that!"